


What If

by Monroe_Happens



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom - Susan Kay, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Bob Fosse references, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Comedy, Drama, F/M, Gen, Humor, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Love/Hate, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Other, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Possessive Behavior, References to Canon, Threats of Violence, Unrequited Love, Weird, love never dies references, puns, references don juan triumphant, what should have happened
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 14,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26707678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monroe_Happens/pseuds/Monroe_Happens
Summary: a collection of What If? one-shots of what doesn't happen, should have. Some are random and funny, others are well, you just have read and see!
Relationships: Christine Daaé & Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Erik & Nadir Khan, Erik | Phantom of the Opera & Meg Giry, Erik | Phantom of the Opera/Little Sultana, Erik | Phantom of the Opera/Meg Giry, Erik | Phantom of the Opera/Nadir Khan, Erik | Phantom of the Opera/The Persian, Raoul de Chagny & Christine Daaé, Raoul de Chagny & Meg Giry, Raoul de Chagny/Christine Daaé
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	1. The Princess Slays The Dragon In This One

**Author's Note:**

> Just like the summary says, random oneshots of what didn't happen, could have, should have, would have been more fun, etc.  
> This is the song I played while writing this:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hHsDKqKE_kc  
> You're welcome,

* * *

* * *

Meg and Christine walk around in circles in the dressing room. 

“So, you don’t want to do this, and that makes sense,” Meg nods and has her scheming face on.

“I think I may die either way,” Christine feels the cold smother her insides and her skin.

Meg stretches her arms, she moves her hips and hops in place, she changes her posture and turns to Christine, now with teacher mode activated.

“Okay, now I need you to come at me, like my name is Christine and you want my juicy, juicy.” She moves her hips and rolls them up and down.

“Uh, what?”

“Come on, we’re **_blocking_** , so come at me, Don Juan!” Meg changes into a new position, her left hand curved under chest and the arm raised up, her fingers beckon for Christine come at her.

Christine walks over awkwardly.

“No, no, no! You **_want_** me, and I **_do not_** want you, remember? **_I’m_** **_you_** , and **_you’re_** **_him, so come at me!”_**

Christie, now understanding, tries to be more aggressive with her movements.

Meg performs an exaggerated spin kick, that has just as much as swing as kick, she has it **_sloppy_** and almost kicks Christine in the chest, and she has move quickly to avoid getting hit in the face.

“Come on! This is the guy you are prettified of! Be more menacing, take me to your lair!” Meg switches her dancing to a backwards walk, Christine charges forward, but stops when something, pop, pop, pops at her feet and she dances backwards herself.

“Remember to _keep it hot!”_ Meg rubs her hands together, and they spark and a small fire forms, she winks.

“What? How?”

Meg throws her a small bag of tricks.

“I went to the circus the other day and this magician wanted me to be his assistant, and I was like, thanks, but I don’t know you, and he gave me some of his magic as a parting gift! I can make fire and cause small explosions, it’s great, I’ve been throwing this stuff at Carlotta all week!”

Christine looks at the bag.

“Really?”

“Yup! All I have to do is send him a letter and he’ll send more of his tricks, it’s so nice to have friends.”

“This could actually help me.”

“Now, again, yoo-hoo, Don Juan, my name’s Christine and you wants this!” Meg spins and then stops into an enticing pose.

“But I have the tricks now?”

“Oh, right, **_role reversal!_** Good idea!” She runs towards Christine, who backs away, but then remembers, the tiny bombs, she throws them at Meg’s feet.

Meg dances to avoid the onslaught and Christine does her best to dance and avoid the advancing Meg, she tries the kick, but Meg catches her leg.

“Okay, what I need you to do is **_stomp_**. Like **_Stomp_** your other foot, and then punch him! A right cross! Or left, either way!”

“Uh, okay.”

“Do it! Stomp! He will take you right now if you don’t!”

Christine, trembling stomps her foot, and then right crosses, misses, Meg’s face.

“Okay, but you can’t miss his.”

“I don’t want to punch you.” Christine says lamely.

“After you right cross, you need move the leg he was holding. Use it. Then you can run or do some evasion, be defensive as much as offensive.”

“I don’t know if he even will-“Meg puts her hand over Christine’s mouth.

“He’s totally going to show up as Don Juan, you know he will. Why wouldn’t he?”

“I- “

“Oh, so you think he’ll just suddenly cast Raoul in the lead?”

“No, I mean. You’re right, that would make sense for him to play Don Juan.”

“Duh, and hello.”

“Now, if you say, get into the position of being held, and he tries kiss you, teeth. You have teeth. And your head, and chin, just up, up, up!”

“You know a lot about this defending yourself against unwanted sex, should I be worried?”

“And remember, your feet, and if you can, elbows. Use the feet, then elbows or your head, but also do something else. One is a distraction, the other Is the killing blow!”

“Okay,”

“Nails! And wear your most sharp rings. Go straight for the sensitive manly area, this is your life, and you do what you need to do!"

“Right, sharp rings, kick his sensitive manly parts.”

“He wants to use those on you with force, you are **_allowed_** to hurt them.”

Christine nods, she tries to keep her breathing steady, it’s suddenly becoming real. Meg holds onto her shoulders and their forehead’s touch.

“No means no. You are not the pretty lifeless princess who has to be used. That’s not you, that’s not going to happen. You fight, if you don’t want it, make sure he doesn’t forget; The **_Princess_** **_slays_** **_the dragon in this one.”_**

Christine nods.

“It’s almost time.”

“Yeah.”

“You got this.”

Christine wishes she had Meg’s confidence.

“Remember the blocking. We can go over it again,”

“Yeah, that would be good.”

“Okay, come at me,”

Christine charges, and they start their dance of Princess Slays the Dragon.

_I got this._

Confidence swells inside Christine and this time, she knows she can do it, and she will be okay.

* * *

* * *


	2. Magical Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg asks Christine about the Angel of Music.

* * *

Meg found time to sneak away from the other dancers, Christine had been so pale during rehearsal, not her usual self, so Meg decided it was time to investigate, intervene. Have a nice chat. It had been going well until the subject of Christine’s illusive tutor came up.

He/she is an Angel. No, not just any Angel. The Angel of Music. She says he comes to her when she is alone to teach her lovely songs, ways to use her voice she has not thought of.

“So, where is he? This Angel? Where does he usually coach you?”

Christine nods to the mirror.

“Your tutor lives in a magical mirror.”

“I don’t think he lives in the mirror, that’s where I hear him.”

“From a mirror.”

“You make me sound mad.”

“What’s his name?”

“He’s an Angel.”

“Angels have names. Michael, Gabriel.”

“I did not ask, and he did not say.”

“So, you have an angelic nameless tutor who may or may not live in your dressing room mirror.”

“Meg, the way you say things,”

“Do you know what he looks like? Does his image reflect through?”

“No.”

“So, a couple of things, you don’t know his name, what he looks like, he may or may not be a supernatural creature, do I have everything so far?”

“Yes.”

“When was the last time you slept?”

“What?”

“Are you sure you are well?”

“What does that have to do with anything? I feel fine.”

“You are taking singing lessons from a nameless magical invisible creature that lives in your mirror.”

“I know it may sound mad to you, but it is true!”

“Right. We have been busy here at the opera. You haven’t been able to have much time off. It would make sense you’d confuse dreams with reality. I do that sometimes when I get exhausted from hours of practice.”

“I am not confusing reality!”

“Then you’re insane.”

“Meg!”

“Christine!”

“I am not insane! I know my mind, and that is why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

Meg looks at her friend that is seated across from her. She is paler, thinner, and being more and more of a hermit. She only sees Christine at the opera, they no longer have their city adventures.

If keeping this truth keeps Christine around, then perhaps, she could play along, until she figures out a better way to help her worrisome friend.

Meg takes both of Christine’s hands, smiles.

“I’m sorry. There are things in this world that defy logic and science.”

Christine nods.

“I’m glad you found this Angel.”

“So am I. Papa said he would send him to me.”

“Angel of Music. If only he could get the Phantom of the Opera to calm down. They should meet.” Meg laughs.

“They should.”

“If that could be arranged!”

“Meg Giry!”

Christine and Meg both become cold and rigid creatures. Madame Giry, with her cane and severe face, does not like to wait or have time wasted.

“Yes?”

“Are you a dancer?”

“I am.”

“Then dance! Join the other dancers, your movements were sloppy tonight.” Her mother walks back to the group. 

Meg squeezes her friend’s hand one last time before departing. Meg’s heart is heavy with worry, she does not want to leave her friend alone and she swears she hears Christine talking to someone.

Yes, after tonight Meg will go to her mother and discuss Christine, Angels and how to help her spiraling friend.


	3. A New Partnership

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raoul wants to completely self destruct and die. Too bad a trickster goddess of pink and yellow has other plans.

* * *

Raoul needs to get drunk and he needs to get drunk now. He feels hot and cold inside and sharp electricity intermittently explodes inside his chest and it wrecks his spine.

"Hello, I'd like to have all the alcohol please." Says a playful voice.

Raoul looks up, he knows that voice. It's Meg. She is wearing black sequin shorts, and a white bodice top. She leans into the bar,

"Hang on, I believe you heard me say, "give me a glass of wine," but what I really said was, I want all of your potent potables," she winks and clicks her tongue.

She spins around and rests against the counter of the bar next to Raoul.

"Hey, Rally Lulu." She smiles. He nods at her, and then tries to get lost in his misery. Meg elbows him in the shoulder.

"No need for Mr. Grumpy Face." Meg voice is low and exaggerated.

"I need to forget today, yesterday, tomorrow." He hangs his head and moves the glass in front of him.

He is on his third glass of whiskey, his face feels flushed, he is sure it is red, and he may get sick soon. He brain is on a turntable and it will not stop spinning.

"The present is just a pleasant interruption from the past." Her voice is a pleasant melody.

"If you say so." He scoffs. He pushes the glass too much and it moves forward and off the bar.

"I can spell confusion with a K. Rally Lulu you need to learn to have fun. You're lucky we've met, because I am a Madam Doctor Professor of fun."

"You're what?"

He does not have much time to contemplate this, Meg grabs his shoulders, gets him off the stool and leads him out of the bar.

They are outside and he would be just as fine if the ground swallowed him up or if something struck him down. Or if **_He_** killed him.

Meg whistles. His attention won, she winks, gives him the, stay here gesture, and seemingly bumps into a stranger. She holds onto their hands and greets them jovially.

"Oh, my cake! I thought it was you! It has been ages! How are you doing?"

"Excuse me, Miss?"

"We really must catch up sometime!" Meg steps away, backwards back to Raoul where he waits on the corner confused.

The confused stranger recovers and continues their merry way. Meg holds up a wristwatch and shakes it, presenting it to Raoul.

"It's not stealing if you want it more." She winks.

"That is absolutely stealing. You just stole." He shakes his head, he may be bitter and close to drunk, but he still has some sense of morality.

"No, because I want it more."

"That's not how it works."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"It's stealing."

"No! You're supposed to say 'No', and then I say' No', and you say 'Yes' and I win."

"Does that ever work?"

"Yes. Once."

"I would like very much to be alone now."

Meg grabs onto his arm and pulls him along. He's trying to remain the gentleman but it's being increasingly difficult to keep the temperament.

"Let's go for a walk among the stars, do you know how to shoot pool?"

"I don't."

"Great! It is a very lucrative hobby. Once you get past the math, hate math."

After several minutes of walking and crossing streets and back alleys, she leads Raoul into a new bar establishment. The atmosphere is heavy with smoke, and she pulls him along to the pool table.

The patrons know her, Raoul notices. She is greeted by the rough looking men with cheers and jeers. She waves. Meg is the only female here, Raoul notes.

"Rally Lulu here is a pool virgin, so I'ma teach him how it's done."

"You're lucky Rally Lulu," says an older man with no front teeth," she's the best damn hustler on the island. The amount of money I've lost!" He slaps Raoul roughly in the shoulder and howls with laughter, his companions agree.

"My name is actually—"

Meg whistles and waves for Raoul to come over to her. She has already set the game up, and she is stripes.

"I'm stripes, your solid. The white ball is what you use to hit the other balls. You ignore the black one for now. You want to get all of your balls into the pocket."

"Right. You said math was involved?"

"Angles and geometry."

"Anything else?"

"Probably but figuring it out on our own is the fun bit." She shoulder bumps him with hers and laughs.

It does not take Raoul too long discover he is terrible at pool, and that he is a sore loser. He removes his jacket, rolls up his sleeves and demands rematch, after rematch.

His skill increases slightly each time and his thoughts of Christine and **_Him_** are pushed further and further back each minute. He is no longer bitter about those two, at least, for now, in this moment.

He is annoyed, annoyed that Meg seems to be some sort of trickster goddess. She's won every match. How does she make it look so easy, when he's about to lose his mind with frustration. He has no money or other capital to bet and yet he keeps demanding a rematch.

"Rally Lulu it's almost 2 AM. I fig we should call it a night, the bar is closing."

"One more game." He narrows his eyes. Meg shakes her head and grabs his arm.

"The bar is closing, we don't have to go home, but we can't stay here."

"How'd you get so good at pool?"

"Practice. Observing. Losing."

"I want to punch something until all that's left is a sticky paste."

"I would like a soft pretzel, Good thing I can help with both."

* * *

Raoul does not want to be back here. He feels sick, angry, still wants to kick, to hit, to punch something until he's nothing and there is nothing left. Meg pulls him along, talking nonsense, and he doesn't care, he hears nothing.

"Pretzel!" She shoves one into his chest. His accepts but does not eat. She jumps backwards, and then leans forward, her arms are raised, and her hands are balled into fists.

"Who're we fighting!" She moves forwards and backwards, awaiting a command.

"What?"

"You said you wanted to have a rumble, so?"

Raoul knows that previously he did not spend that much time with Meg, and Christine did tell him that she could be quite _unusual_ , but this is ridiculous.

"Oh! Meggles is back! And She's in fight mode! We got a rumble?"

"I don't know, he won't tell me!"

"This is ridiculous." Raoul says. He tears a piece off from his pretzel with his teeth.

"So, no rumble tumble?" Meg asks, feigning disappointment. He shakes his head. Being back here, his misery sucker punches him.

"I know you're in a lot of pain right now Rally Lulu, but I need you to remember this," Meg leans in close, "In fifty years you'll be dead and none of this will matter."

Raoul had not expected that, he is thrown off. He drops the pretzel. He frowns. He really wanted to eat that. Meg kisses his cheek.

"You need an escort to your suite?"

He shakes his head. She smiles and shoots the guns at him as she walks backwards.

"Remember! You'll be dead and none of this will matter!" She runs off into the shadows.

* * *

The next day Raoul tries to find a way to distract himself. More alcohol, anything.

"Oh yeah, we'll you're so ugly **_fluorine_** won't bond with you!" Raoul pauses. He hears raucous laughter, and Meg's voice. He follows it.

"Oh, oh! Chemistry burn!"

"You did not just say that!"

"What you did there, I saw it."

Meg is surrounded by several workers and well, Freaks. They seem to be having a joke off. Meg is at the epicenter.

"Okay, okay. I got one. Hey, Meg, does this smell like chloroform?" Meg playfully leans into the offered hand.

Meg smile widens when she Raoul and waves him over,

"Rally Lulu, do you have 11 protons?"

He blinks.

"Why?"

"Because you're **_sodium_** fine!"

This causes boisterous laughter.

"You did not!"

"That's great!"

Raoul smiles despite himself. He walks over and joins the group. He forgets about his misery and the ill of his universe.

"Two atoms are walking along, one says, hey I think I lost an electron. The other atom asks, are you sure? The first one says, I'm positive." Raoul says. He does not know much about jokes, but he did like that one.

"Not bad," Meg says. Her friends nod in agreement.

"Did you hear about the sick chemist?" The others shake their head and say no.

"If you can't helium and you can't curium, you'll probably have to barium."

The group chuckles, not a great amusement, but it is something. Raoul wishes he knew more jokes. He makes a mental note to do research.

"How do you know the moon is broke? It's down to its last quarter." Meg smiles, her tongue poking through her teeth. Meg looks at her wrist, she's wearing the watch that she wanted more, and clicks her tongue.

"Shows on, the breaks over. You know the rules. Get to your places, we'll meet up for poker at mine, yeah?" The group breaks and everyone goes off into different directions.

"Today is my day off." Meg says to Raoul.

"Is it?"

"You know, you and I should have an adventure. You still have That Face. If you do not smile soon, it is going to become Resting Dick Face. You do not want, and there are not enough masks to go around to hide it. Trust me. He has them locked up."

Meg starts to walk, and she twirls, and motions for Raoul to follow her.

"Let's see what chaos we can unleash! Let's go to hell and keep it hot!"

He follows her along. They leave the circus and go back more towards the city itself.

"Lets see, hm. Lets find something unusual and quirky."

"Such as?"

"A purple dog!"

"A, what?"

She runs along the sidewalk and he follows her, she stops. She presses herself against the outside of the building.

"Now we wait and observe. Then we move on."

They wait. People pass, no strange or unusual colored dogs. Meg sighs, she nods to him, time to move on. She twirls as she walks and moves to the left to right, she is always dancing. The world is her dancefloor.

 _"The arch in your brow can tell the truth, just imagine what your back can do! The dance floor where I do my best is your, your mattress, ho_!" She twirls and shoulder bumps Raoul.

"You're not like the other women I know."

"Do you know a lot of women?" She arches a brow.

"I-the women I'm acquainted with, they wouldn't do or say the things you do. You are not quite what I would say is vulgar, but that, what was that about the mattress? It would be inappropriate."

"Do you like those stuffy women?"

"I do not. They are as you said, stuffy. Ridged. I feel like I am in a nunnery and need to walk on eggshells. Everything I say or do will—

"Give them the vapors?" She waves her hand, trying to cool off. He nods.

"Speak freely Rally Lulu, life is too short to take offense to everyone. And you, know," she waves with her hand for him to take it away:

"We'll be dead in 50 years."

"Exactly! And none of this will matter."

"I hate the duties and responsibilities of my title. Even as a kid, all I wanted to do was get in the dirt and play with other boys, mess with girls. The best time of my life was when I met Christine. I jumped into the ocean to save her scarf, I knew it would irritate my governess, which it did, and then I got the chance to talk someone not my governess."

"You didn't get to play with others?"

Raoul shakes his head. He does not have too many fond memories growing up. He was raised to look down at others who were not from money, wealth, or nobility. This is what Catherine must have felt. He hates to think that Heathcliff would be Christine.

"Christine isn't my best friend. She was literally my only friend. Mother kept me by her side all the time. All. The. Time. I basically grew up at the Opera Populaire. Once I started to wander off and find magic doors, she basically tied to me a chair."

"Christine said you would read gothic novels and told dark stories to scare the others."

"Yes, but that was only to scare Sorelli. She kept stepping on my toes during rehearsals."

"How would that stop her from stepping on your toes?"

"Because of the panic attack, that would happen after I hid behind the magic door in the dressing room, and hissed, "boo," at her, when she walked by."

"So, Opera Populaire had **_two_ **ghosts." Raoul finds this amusing. He does not know or care where Meg and he are walking, he is enjoying himself and doesn't want it to end.

"I prefer specter or spirit. I'm classic and refined."

"Of course."

They link arms and continue to walk to a nameless and unknown place.

"Here we go," Meg gestures to the body of water.

"Here we go, what?"

"A swimming hole!" She removes Raoul's jacket from him and nods her head to the water.

"This is not a public pool."

"Exactly, it's your private pool."

"Meg," he swallows slowly. His brain screaming at him about everything that is improper about this.

"What did we determine?"

"None of this will matter in 50 years," he sighs.

"And so, get to it! Feel the cool healing waters!"

"After you," he says, he could not help himself. He feels a sting of heat, he didn't mean to say that, and he lost temporary control of his mind.

"Hm." Meg drops the jacket; she marches forward and runs before launching herself into the water.

Raoul waits. There are no police of the prime and proper code screaming their way. No sirens. No alarms. Just them in this moment.

Raoul starts off walking, before his pace eventually picks up to a run. He jumps and he as he resurfaces, he can feel pressure of society roll of his shoulders like water. It feels good and a little bit naughty.

Meg splashes water at him.

"You lived."

He splashes her back.

"So, I have."

"I used to take my ex here." Meg stops herself. For the first time since they spent time together, the cool confidence of Meg leaves her face and affect. Raoul does not like it; he wants to press for more information.

"Yeah?"

She nods. She dives under water and stays under for a minute before surfacing behind Raoul and splashing him.

"I think you're on to something," Raoul floats on his back and starts to swim," I do feel a kind of healing."

"Want to shoot pool later? We can train you to be a proper hustler!"

"I'd like that."

* * *

They do not return for several hours. Their clothing still wet from the water activities. Fleck runs up to Meg as soon as she spots her.

" _Where have you been?!_ This is the second night you skipped your performance! **_He'_** s going to notice, you know!"

Meg looks at Raoul.

"It's your fault for the nun. I told you. I told you!" Meg crosses her arms and turns her head. Something takes over Raoul's mind and tongue:

"I would like to think it would have been a minor incident if you hadn't involved yourself with the priest." He flicks a droplet of water from his shoulder her way.

"I maintain he did that to himself." Meg snaps and glares at him, he returns the favor.

"So, he _**jumped** _out the window?" Raoul again, has no idea where these words are coming from, but they make sense and go with the flow of their dance.

"Obviously! He's Catholic, he probably thought he needed to save someone." She uncrosses her arms, arms at her sides. She has her attention on him.

"Of course."

They have their hands on their hips and have a glare off. Eyes narrowed, and they look like quite the murderous pair.

Fleck wants to hit them both.

"Enough! Whatever! Get cleaned up! I do not care, the stress of you is going to kill me! _If_ _Erik doesn't do it first_." Fleck wanders off in a misery.

Meg and Raoul continue to glare for another second before they break off into laughter.

"Where did that come from? What nun?"

"Same question via the priest and the window?"

He shook his head.

"Felt natural."

"Yeah."

They start walking again.

"We should be partners! Like a double act, it would be grand. We work well off each other. You'd have to stop moping, we'd get paid, you and Christine can work out issues,"

"Double act of what? What would we do?"

"I used to be a magician's assistant! Another ex, but he taught me everything he knows, and left me his book on his 'art,' and all of his magic."

"What happened with this ex?"

"And now my for next trick," Meg waves her hands in a circular motion before they drop to her side," I shall disappear!"

"He did, I take it?"

"Haven't see him for three years, the bastard."

"And you would be the magician, in this double act?"

"Yes! We could do other things. Could be an adult act."

"You could steal the small clothes of the audience, with your deft hands. You want her bra more." Raoul meant that to be jest. Meg's eye grew wide and wet with anticipation and desire.

"Yes! Yes! We will do that! So many details to work out!" She grabs his hands and pulls him along.

Meg fumbles with the door to her tiny suite and pulls Raoul inside. She runs to her nightstand, sits on the bed, pats it, Raoul sit's down next to her.

"We need a name; every great act has a fancy title."

"I don't know,"

"An Evening with Eris and Charon!" She writes that down on her notepad.

"Charon?"

"Riverboat captain. You like big boats, don't lie."

"I'm on a boat. Hey look at me now, ma," Raoul says.

"We need a backstory. Are we lovers? Exes? Siblings?"

"Exes." Raoul suggests.

"Yes! You and I will keep trying to run off with someone during the act, which would lead to _high-larious_ violence and magic. We need to get you trained on fighting and dancing for the stage, maybe even incorporate some real violence. Sometimes the hits need to land."

"We could claim to be the real Charon and Eris? Play off that, being that our magic is **_real_**. So, our competition could amuse us?"

"Yes! You're good at this! Told you, we're going to be great, make tons of money, retire, maybe buy **_this_** show, fuck you, Erik!"

Meg stops and tries to calm down.

"I'll try to keep my text subtext." She says in a small voice.

"It's fine, someone else needs to be sad, can't always be me."

"Thank you for your permission and understanding."

Meg smiles.

"Wait, it's not official until we toast."

Meg dives to the ground and climbs under her bed, after several minutes, she emerges and is holding a bottle. Raoul grabs her arms and helps her slide out.

"You have no idea the lengths I had to go to hide my own stash! In my own damn room even. I would like to know right now, are you **_addicted_** to anything? Other than this frown face you got going on."

"Another ex?"

She nods, her smile bittersweet. Raoul wonders if she has ever been hugged or loved before.

"Where do you find these rogues? They sound awful and need to be slapped."

Meg waves him off.

"Promise me you have no vile vice that controls you? It's fine, I can handle it, I'm a damn good nurse, but I need to know for my own sake."

"I have no addictions. I do not drink alcohol that much. Only when depressed."

"Promise me on something that means something." She is serious.

"On the life of my son." Raoul says in a grave voice. Meg accepts this.

She goes to her dresser, pulls out the drawer, places it on the bed, and pokes her head inside, then pulls out two glasses, hands one to Raoul, and then she opens the bottle, pours wine into a Raoul's glass.

"To our new partnership and friendship."

They clink glasses.

For the first time in a long time, Raoul looks forward to tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost want to make this its own story, think it has potential? comment and let me know!


	4. Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg frees herself from phantom chains.

* * *

* * *

Meg sits quietly on the stacked boxes and watches her live theater. She yawns, twirls the gun in her hands, then fires it, just a warning shot.

It catches their attention.

“Oh, is that what this little lever does?” She forms an O shape with her mouth and then pantomimes a shy giggle.

“Meg.”

Meg shakes her head.

“I don’t like any of you right now, and you’re going to listen to me. No interruptions,”

“Meg, I—

Meg shoots at Raoul’s feet and jumps backwards, Meg winks.

“I believe I said, no interruptions, o great noble sir.”

He keeps his mouth closed and nods.

“So, this is what’s going to happen,” Meg turns to Christine,” you are going to grow up.”

“What?”

“Oh, my married life isn’t a fairy tale like in the old stories! Why don’t I have happy ever after! Life is hard, nothing is falling at me feet, I have a son, I have a husband, I have money, I have responsibilities! My partner is having a hard time and I don’t want to deal with it! Boo, fucking woo.”

Meg sighs, then composes herself.

“You got married after five minutes of knowing him! Yeah, life got life fast! Holding onto the past, leading someone on who is entirely mentally unstable is wrong. I cannot believe that was a sentence that had to be said,”

Meg shakes her head, she is not done.

“Yeah, having a husband who is drinking himself to death is not ideal for a marriage, but you took vows for better and worse, and right now it’s the worse bit. Suck it up! He needs you! He fought a dragon for you! Help him fight his! Marriage is sacrifice, pain, and compromise! He came to New York to support you! Now it’s your turn to support him! Or you could regress, and stay a little girl stuck in fantasy that isn’t realistic or healthy,”

Meg leans forward, as if to reveal a secret.

“Erik will kill you, I’m serious. He will literally love you to death.”

Meg turns the gun o Erik, before he can respond.

“ _Shut. Up_ , it is not always about you, even when it is.”

Meg scratches her temple with the gun.

“Where was I?”

“Ah, yes,” she turns the gun back to Erik,” You owe me an apology, money, and a puppy!”

“ ** _What_**.”

“Did I stutter?”

“No, I don’t, and you’re not responsible enough.”

“I’ve done your bidding because you’re too much of a coward, you’ve not said thank you, you owe me money for the first year I worked for you, and I am **_incredibly_** responsible, I take care of your sorry ass every time you relapse! I want a puppy!”

Meg jumps from her wooden throne and sends eye daggers his way.

“You had no contract the first year, I’ll send for a puppy.” He is losing whatever patience he has with her.

“And?”

Meg waves her hand for him to go on.

“I never asked you to do anything you weren’t already willing to do.”

“Erik,” she keeps moving her hand in a circular motion.

“You made an active choice. I didn’t force you to do anything.”

“I will shoot your penis.” Meg lowers her weapon to her new target. Raoul silently pleas for her to shoot,

“You’re **_insufferable_**.”

“And you’re about to be dickless.”

He glares something fierce, as does she. They remain like that for what feels like eternity.

Erik sighs, exhales, and inhales deeply, massages his temples,

“I may have been callous and I could have been more appreciative of your endeavors.”

“Damn straight.”

Meg strides over like a storm of fury, stops in front of him.

“I told you, if you didn’t stop being so mean to me, I’d fall in love with you. Then you what did you go and do? You **_punched_** my heart.”

Meg kicks his shin, and the grabs his head as he has it lowered and kisses his mask something fierce before she pushes him away.

“The truth is I’m too tired to keep playing pretend. This is goodbye, this is the end.”

Meg turns around.

“All of you are horrible selfish people that will systematically destroy everything you touch or claim to love. You all deserve each other. I’m going for a soft pretzel, have a good ruin!”

Meg holds her head high and leaves them behind.

“Meg, are you okay?” Fleck asks as she walks with her friend.

“I feel good. For the first time in ten years, I feel free.”

Fleck and Meg walk together as the sun rises, a new day, new beginning.


	5. Short and To the Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the show, Raoul expresses concerns and his protective intent.

“We could hire the police,” Raoul suggests.

“What? And cause even more panic? No, don’t be absurd.”

“There is a mad man who has already killed at least once that knows this Opera House like the back of his hand, that is obsessed with one of your performers and you don’t think the police being alerted and called is a good—”

“We don’t need any more negative—”

“I’m calling for the police,” Raoul says, and he turns to leave but his passage is blocked.

“Raoul, be reasonable.”

“I think I’m being quite sane even.”

“You can’t do this.”

“Christine is going to be my wife, and more than that, the lives of everyone else here is in potential danger, we need to alert the proper authorities!”

The other two men still refuse to see his logic. Raoul throws his arms out in frustration.

“This is ridiculous!”

“We, but it’s for the best,”

“Since when did you care about what’s for the best?”

Raoul wants to slap both men.

“Christine Daae will perform as requested, and this will be treated as a typical production."

“And once someone is murdered, or the audience is threatened? You will say, what, that it’s part of theatre? These things happen?”

“The-Raoul, now you—”

“I’m going to the police, they will be at every exit, no one else dies!”

“Raoul,”

“This is completely insane, you’re why it got to this point!” Raoul sends them a fierce glare before he leaves the office.

“We’re doomed.”


	6. The Real Christine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine goes into full disclosure.

Christine sighs and seeing as her pervious attempts to appeal to reason have failed, she decided a new tactic must be used.

“Well, if we’re going to spend eternity together, it is only fair we have full disclosure.” Christine sighs, as she walks around the organ, her fingers tracing.

“I’m allergic to dust, cats, plants, flora, fauna, mold, mildew, morphiene. I do not keep house, I hate singing duets, I see no point to them in the theatre, I only agreed to yours because I wanted to be nice. I’m allergic to feathers, I need to have a duvet that’s at least 1200 thread count,”

Christine pauses for a moment, trying to think if there is anything that she left out or have forgotten about.

“I actually hate the organ. I don’t see the point. It’s stupid. The sound is all over the place, I don’t like the look of it, it’s dumb. The whole aesthetic is dumb.”

She wags her finger, stopping him from speaking.

“Darling, please let me finish speaking.”

“Oh, I drool, like **_a lot_** , in my sleep. I wake up and have to turn the pillows and sometimes even my covers. I love spicey food, but it does not love me back.”

Christine taps her chin, trying to be honest is not as hard as she had anticipated.

“I believe in a kind of ordered chaos, when it comes to keeping my things. Did I mention I hate cats? If I’m to stay, that thing has to go. I will not follow **_orders_**. Or commands. I am not your pet. I am a human shaped Christine.”

Christine, turns and rests her back against the organ.

“I’m clumsy. I hate books, this organ needs to go too. Either play the pan flute or the piano, but this,” she pats the organ,” is an insult to my sensibilities.”

Christine takes a breath.

“All of our finances with be shared up to 75%, I am worth it and you’re damn lucky that’s all I’m asking of you, considering how you keep going on about how I am your mask for your compositions.”

Christine feels lighter by the seconds.

“Meg Giry is my best friend and I want to invite her over, and make no mistake, I will invite her over, she will come, we will have a lovely time and you will be a good proper gentlemanly host.”

Christine plays with the fabric of her dress.

“I want a wedding. A real great big, grand wedding, above ground, I want my friends, my castmates to attend. Again, I’m worth it.”

Christine kicks at the air and dirt.

“My name is Christine, not Chris, not Christy, not Tinnie, or Teenie, or Angel, or Babe, but Christine. You will not call me Little Lotte, only Raoul can because he knows what that means.”

Christine turns around again, and traces the organ, and draws with the dust.

"And yes, Raoul will remain in my life, all of my friends will. I am not giving up my position at the Opera Populaire either, I _sing for_ **_me_** , not you, not anyone else. Me, myself, and I, Christine."

“I am not a short order cook, your hunger, your problem. All of this,” Christine gestures all around the lair, ”has to go. I’m hiring an interior designer. You are my husband, not my master, not my owner, no more Angel of Music, we are equals. No more manipulation. And don’t you try lie to me about your finances, I know maths!”

Christine walks around to behind him.

“I’m not a massage therapist or a nurse and I am certainly not your mother. Clean your messes. Did I mention that cat has to go? And this organ? We should just dump it in The Seine. I do not do the laundry of others, I barley do my own.”

Christine nods.

“I want a bed, I want sex to be on my terms and trust me, we are not there yet, touch me when I don’t want it, I will fight you, I will leave you, I will report you. You cannot cage this songbird.”

Christine looks at her feet.

“My feet are weird, my legs are hairy, and I have a mustache that I hide with makeup, I’m lazy, I do things on my terms, not yours. I smell sometimes, can’t help it, I’m a person.”

“So, that’s me, Christine, raw, real and unrefined.”

Christine bows.

“All of this,” she points around the room,” is going to be gutted. I’m going to make some calls, I’m so excited! We’ll get proper lighting, add color, have entertainment for our daily quests. Oh, this is going to be so much fun! Also, the cat, leaves today and I’ll make inquiries about the organ.”

Christine squeezes The Phantom's shoulders. She probably should have him tell her his name at some point, alas. There will be time for that later.

“This is going to be so much fun!” She squeals and then snorts like a pig.

“That’s how I laugh,” She snorts, rather, oinks. She walks away.

“This is the beginning of our journey!”

“Pink!”

Christine runs off, stops, and turns.

“I’m going to update your wardrobe, you are going to dress properly. Trousers, and a jumper. Polos!”

Christine runs off giggly and oinking.


	7. Yellow Flowers In a Boat

“There you are!”

Raoul turns, and tries to see through the dark, but it is nearly impossible, but thinks he knows the voice, vaguely.

“Well, do you know how to get there?”

“You’re the ballet girl Christine is friend’s with,” Raoul met her once, oh what is her name again? It was a flower, Daisy, Flora, Rose?

“Meg, and you have no idea where you’re going, and I bet you have nothing to defend yourself.” Meg tsks and clicks her tongue, she moves Raoul out of the way and gets herself settled into the boat, she moves, grabs the oar and motions for him to come.

“Raoul get in if you’re coming, if not, go back and hold off the stupid mob. Idiots!”

Raoul hops onto the boat and he has no plan, and no idea what to do when he gets to wherever he’s going, Meg seems to be sure of herself though, he wishes she would pass over some of that cup of brave.

“You have no plan, no weapons, no idea what lies ahead or who you’re even dealing with, so what do you? Just run into the darkness, as if Nyx and Erebus will protect you!” Meg’s scolding Raoul, and he feels like the schoolmarm is about to hit his knuckles with a ruler.

“Granted, that is very romantic and brave, but stupid. God, you’re an idiot, but love and lust makes you do the wacky, so it’s a pass.” Meg smiles at him, he can barely make out her face in the darkness.

“How’d you know where to go? Do you know this monster?” Raoul does not know the Giry’s well, if at all. He is in the dark, at Meg’s mercy, for all he knows, she could be in leagues with the Phantom, leading Raoul to his doom. If only he had been of the mind to bring something to defend himself.

Raoul looks at the water, it’s clear and beautiful, he cannot see the bottom of the lake, nor does he have any idea how deep it is here. Could he swim? Where would he swim to?

He feels hopeless, foolish. He is an idiot. He has no plan, no idea what he is even doing.

“So, the house is coming up, do you have a plan?” Meg asks, she pauses rowing.

“I intend to appeal to logic.”

Meg removes the oar from the water and places it inside the boat, she leans forward.

“Rrrrr. Try again.” Meg crosses her arms, shaking her head, clicking her tongue in disapproval.

Raoul had no expected that, such a childish response, this situation is serious. He feels his anger begin to build.

“This is a grave situation! Kidnapping is heinous act, he will face charges, not to mention the murders he’s committed!”

“Yawn.” Meg pantomimes yawning and sighs sarcastically.

“This is isn’t jest! Christine has been taken by a madman!” The boat shakes with his rage, and Raoul is knocked backwards.

“Ding, ding! Madman, indeed, monsieur!” Meg claps her hands.

“So, so, we must,”

“We must remember that he is indeed mad, and that perhaps, perhaps, rationality and logic will be in a word, irrelevant?” Meg says pointedly, her voice gentle yet firm, knowing.

Raoul feels entirely lost. How do you use logic against someone insane? He will lose everything.

“Oh, you did not come all this way just to give up!”

He has nothing.

“Oh, you! Must I think of everything? Men!” Meg scoffs, she leans forward and begins to row again.

“Useless, silly lot, all of you! What would the world be like if womenfolk were not around to carry you!”

Raoul says nothing, he is in misery. All is lost. He might as well drown himself now.

“Pick up the flowers, will you? I fear you crushed them.” Raoul looks over, and indeed, he feels a bouquet of flowers.

“Yellow roses picked just this morning. Do take care, monsieur, they are for the ceremony.” Meg smiles, there is a glint to her eyes, and Raoul feels the smallest bit of hope.

Meg Giry has a plan, and any plan is better than his nonplan.

“Ceremony?”

“The wedding.”

They touch land. Meg gets out first and Raoul, has more trouble, his legs are shaking, jelly, he stumbles, and Meg must help him from falling completely.

“Tsk. You cannot go inside like this.” Meg tries to fix himself up. She straightens his collar and smooths out the rest of his shirt.

She takes a step back to admire, to admire her work and his appearance.

“Hm.”

She motions him to lower his head, he does, she tries to fix that too, smooth it out, uses her fingers as a brush, if you will.

“It’s the best I can do given the situation.” She goes to the boat, picks up the bouquet and holds out her arm, and he after a moment’s hesitation, joins arms with her and they begin to walk.

“Just be calm. No. Be the opposite of what you are feeling, take a deep breath, you got this, Mr. Hero. Ms. Austen is proud of you.”

Meg leads him to the house on the lake.

“Now, I know we just met, but I need you to trust me. I know what I’m doing.” Meg says through a closed smile, Raoul feels sick, his stomach does loops and he nods, he has no choice, he nods, and Meg leads them through the darkness to the monster’s lair.


	8. Was it worth it?

“You wanted my attention?” Christine is trying to hold Raoul back, this is insane.

“What you did there, I see it!” He shouts to the ceiling. People are screaming, running, the cast is freaking out, the Managers are speaking with the police and firemen, Raoul is shouting nonsense to invisible creatures.

“This is great! Really! Everything is **_fine_**! It’s **_fine_**! We’re **_fine_** , we’re all just so fucking **_fine_**!” Christine keeps trying to pull him backstage to him to calm down.

“Raoul, you sound insane,” Christine whispers.

“Come on, Christine, we’re **_fine_**! Tell him, tell him how simply **_fine_** we are!”

“Everything is fine,” Christine says, her voice shaky.

“This is just such a **_fine_** evening!”

Raoul breaks away from Christine and runs as he thinks he spies something up in the catwalk, Christine follows.

“What a **_fine_** production! A **_fine_** performance!” Raoul reaches out, without looking and pulls Christine in front of him, holding her close.

“Oh, so that’s it, is it? You bring down the house, kill people and then run away?”

Christine wants to strangle her beautiful idiot, as he says, people are dead, many more wounded. None of this is fine or funny. She is scared to death, a waking nightmare.

“ ** _Coward_**!”

Oh, that is it. Christine cannot take this anymore. She turns heel, and slaps Raoul.

“None of this is fine, or okay! People are hurt, dying! And you stand here, trying to incite incident with a murderer! You were warned, you all were, and you did **_nothing_**! Whether you believed it to be a serious threat or not, you still refused to take any precaution to protect the cast or the audience, and guess what, people **_died_**! I hope this was worth it! I quit!” Christine is shaking with fury, disgust, and fear.

“You all could have done something to save lives! You are selfish, you are the cowards, a spineless lot! I hope it was worth it! The gossip, the press! Carlotta’s ego!” Christine exhales deeply, she is exhausting herself, she pushes Raoul away as he tries to reach out to her, she runs from him.

“What are you going to tell the grieving family? Hm? About why they lost sons, daughters? Because your ego demanded it? You needed a bit more pocket change!”

“Was it worth it? Was it!” Christine cannot control her anger, she starts slapping, punching, hitting the managers, she is pulled away by an officer.

“You did this!”

Christine breaks free from the officer and runs out of the opera house, she finds a taxi.

"Where to, Miss?"

"Train station, I'm going home." She gives Opera Populaire one final look before she gets in.


	9. Meg Makes a Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg makes a door.

* * *

“We need to make a door.”

Raoul is gently moved out of the way. Meg taps the wall in several places. Raoul is panicking. Christine is on the other side, helpless and trapped with a monster and here he is, with a stupid wall preventing him from doing anything.

Meg taps a few times and in a few more places. Raoul is pacing madly in circles, pulling at his hair. He is sick. He wants to scream; he wants to punch through the wall.

Meg steps back into the shadows.

“Can you do that? Can you make a door? How can you make a door? We don’t have time for this, she’s right there and he could come back at any moment!” Raoul slaps the wall with an open palm and sighs as he presses his body into the wall.

He can hear her on the other side, his beautiful Christine. How is this his life? If he’d known that meeting her again would lead to this madness, would he do it all over again?

Yes.

Yes, he would. He wants to hold her. She's beauty, she's grace. She makes him whole. He'd follow her into the darkness. Isn't that what he's doing right now? He laughs, he is. He opens his eyes, not that it does much good, it's too dark to see much of anything.

Meg is taking an awfully long time. Make a door! Yes, they need a door, but how does one just make a door? And on such short notice? This girl is odd, and he doesn’t really know her that well. How does he know she’s not working with the psychopath?

Raoul’s panic rises again. She could be leading Raoul into a trap. Meg did just appear to him, told him to follow her into the darkness after her mother told her not to.

“Raoul, move.”

Raoul turns, he can see her figure, barley. She’s holding something, Raoul squints and steps out of the way. Meg swings something and it makes a loud impact onto the wall, leaving a crater.

A sledgehammer! Little Meg Giry found a sledgehammer! How? Meg swings again, and again. She drops it and pushes the broken wall, they have a way in. Meg pokes her head through.

“Hello!” Meg says sweetly, as if this is all just so normal.

 _“And where the hell have you been_!?” Christine shrieks, her voice uneasy and high pitched. Meg pulls her head back; she smiles at Raoul.

“She’s fine! You got this, hero!” Meg grabs Raoul and helps him through the new ‘door,’. Raoul lands and then he runs to Christine, he pauses and turns. Meg is whistling, she’s holding something.

“And choose your weapon!” She hands him the sledgehammer.

“Do you know how to use it?” Meg asks, she sways back and forth. She is entirely too calm.

“Just swing it?”

“Remember your hand!”

He looks at his hands, the weapon and then Meg Giry.

“It’s hard to,” she gags, her eyes go cross, and she sticks her tongue out of the corner of her mouth,” if you have your arm up. I’ll be very cross if I learn you were strangled with that damn lasso after all my work! I will raise you from the dead and kill you again! “Meg says sternly. Her voice deep and serious. Raoul feels like he is about to have his knuckles smacked with a ruler.

“Yes mam.” He says.

“And you, Christine. You take care of him! That hair is precious! I’ll wait for you and hold off the mob! Luckily mobs are groups of stupid easily influenced ninnies! Good luck!” Meg waves, gives them two thumbs off before she departs.

Christine, now untied, takes the sledgehammer from Raoul, she raises it, ready for war.

“Raoul, your hand!” She glares. He raises his hand at level with his eye and Christine sighs.

“Now stay behind me, we’re ghost hunting.”


	10. Phantom Fishing

“I mean, your bait worked.” Meg says with a smile and shrug. Everyone is running around like headless fowl and Meg is here making terrible humor. Raoul wants to die. He wants to hit himself until his face falls off.

He pulls at his hair and runs around in a circle. Meg steps up to him and grabs onto his shoulders.

“You baited the line, you threw the cast or whatever you call it in fishing,” Meg waves her hand dramatically and moves his head to the stage.

“The fish took it, the bait,” Meg nods and then turns to Raoul with a dead a smile.

“Yes,” he whispers.

“And?” Meg stomps her foot.

Raoul says nothing.

Meg stomps her foot again.

“And?”

Raoul shakes his head. He wants to cry and vomit. His world his ending. Meg shakes him.

“This isn’t your sport.”

He shakes his head.

“Do you know anything about catfish?”

“I don’t.”

“I think you punch them. I could do with a good punching; don’t you think you could do with a good punching? I think that is what we all need! Just a good punch in the face or mouth, or whatever. I wasn’t really paying attention to the book, but I think you punch at them. Or something. Your fist is involved.”

Raoul does not follow; his mouth is slightly agape. Meg closes his mouth gently with her finger.

“Can you swim?”

Raoul does not see or know anything. He hears static and a buzzing that starts to grow louder and louder. He blinks. Meg slaps him.

“Can you swim? “She asks again. He nods.

“Oh, good. Because I don’t know how much weight the tiny boat can actually hold. Erik weighs nothing, anyway. Let’s work on your punching.”

Meg holds her palms up.

“Hit me!”

Raoul awkwardly punches her palm.

“Is that the best you can do? Oh. Let’s just bring an extra pistol. Oh, your hand!” She raises her hand, and then grabs his hand.

“At level, always, ya fool! When in doubt, keep your hand out—er up. At level with your eyes, or you die.”

He looks at his hand.

“Maybe you should stay here.” Meg checks him out. He is a pitiful mess.

“Christine.” Raoul whispers.

“Yes.”

“This is my fault.”

“Yeah, it is in this case, pretty much. Could have been totally avoided.”

“I did this. I did this.”

“We have come to that conclusion. I need you to—oh snap out of it!”

Raoul blinks.

“You’re going to come with me and we’re going to punch the phantom fish and it is going to be glorious!” Meg pulls Raoul along.

“There’s a fish?”


	11. Paperclips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y6ljFaKRTrI

Since The Incident the previous night the Opera has been shut down until it passes the safety inspections and passes code. They were given two weeks to do this. Christine is catatonic and has not left the Giry household, where she is currently staying.

This is just all so perfectly fine and wonderful. Ten people were caught in the falling chandelier’s path and impact, 4 are dead. Raoul has paid all medical expenses as a nameless good Samaritan and had strong words with the managers of the Opera.

And now Raoul is in box five, **_His_ **box, The Phantom's special place. Waiting patiently, delivering daily news and updates and other juicy, juicy gossip.

“The Opera is shut down, no performances, and I mean this with true sincerity, that we’re all impressed and were so happy for you, even after you broke our heart and tried to kill us."

Raoul should feel like a fool talking to air in the dark, but he does not. He leans back in the chair, has a footstool and is at complete ease like he owns the box himself.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I held a conversation about a paperclip for six hours? No? Well, I have always been fascinated by minor yet game changing innovations. So, the paperclip was, and this is what makes it truly unique. . . “

\--

* * *

“My cousin then used glue she found to bond her thumb back to its usual spot until she could get back to the doctor, she kept the breeding with the wolverine for about another year, before she retired Pepper. My aunt tried her hand at it, but then, well, lost her hand, so that is the end of it. That’s my family’s wolverine adventures. Philippe, my brother, just keeps hounds.”

\--

* * *

“My governess had no sense of humor and she hated mess and fuss. So, I saw this little girl crying and pointing at the water, so I ran over, saw the red scarf and I jumped in, obviously. That is how I met and become engaged to one Christine Daae. It’s called dibs, I have it.”

“How old are you?”

Raoul looks to the left, looks to the right. He laughs at himself. It doesn’t matter, it’s dark in the box.

“Younger than you. So, tell me, what was Babylon like?”

“Aren’t we cute.”

Raoul whips his head to the right where he felt the subtle air of something breathing. He reached out and felt nothing.

“Still shut down, still cannot have productions. Was that your plan?”

“An oversight. I trust you will rectify this.” The voice is now in front of Raoul.

“Eventually. Four people are dead. Anything you’d like to say about that?”

A soft chuckle that bounces around the box that leaves Raoul dizzy is his answer. Raoul closes his eyes and grabs his head and leans forward to settle himself.

“You should be thanking me. You would not have known what a poor state the Opera had been in otherwise. Now, things will be brought up to code and you will have no more worries, no? A safe environment indeed, my dear Vicomte.”

Raoul feels something brush against his arm, he touches the space next to, or tries to. Nothing but air again.

“You’re my favorite altruist ghost.”

\--

* * *

“Why are you still in my box?”

Raoul has been visiting the box for days and Erik is getting just a little annoyed by this. There is no Opera as Raoul likes to keep pointing out, so there is no reason for him to trespass and invade his space.

“You killed people.”

“So, you’ve said, is there a point to this redundancy?”

“Have you no shame or remorse?”

“For what?”

“For killing those people!”

“Ah, that.”

“Yes, that!”

Raoul is trying his best to remain calm.

“No.”

\--

* * *

“Anything that half-lives in the water dies and I don’t understand why.” Raoul shrugs, he’s had a little too much to drink and he’s not sure what he’s saying anymore.

“Fascinating.”

“The rhombus or quadrilateral?”

Yup. When Raoul gets tipsy, he talks about math and his favorite shapes and the equations involved.

“Rhombus. You’re very curious.”

Raoul slaps his ear as he feels the softest of touches.

"When the Opera comes back, we'll have to go back to general hate, but this is nice." Raoul leans back in the chair and brings his hands behind his head and relaxes, truly contented.

"All joys in life are fleeting."

"Well, we have three more days before I have to hate you again."

Raoul tries in vain to find the source of his voice.

"So tell me ghost, why are you?"

"Long story."

"We have three days."

"Well," The Phantom begins.


	12. Reza and the Real Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reza grows up and falls in love. All good right? Right?

* * *

Reza fell in love with her the moment her green eyes cast that first glance his way. He remembers being stunned by those eyes, the look, and the pain as he ran into the door. He fell backwards like he was the romantic lead in a terrible Romantic Comedy Trash. She did not come to his aide and he was not helped up by his dorky friend. He cursed his stupidity and was late to his next class.

He saw her again a few days later and the same feelings came over him, he could not move, breathe, all he could do was stare at her like prey being found by the predator.

“Anias,” she says one day,” can you please stop doing that now? “Anias, holds out her hand, he is too scared to take it. She makes the first move, grabs his hand, holds it firmly and makes a show of shaking his hand.

After a few more casual run-ins’ they build up to actual conversations and eventually eat together for lunch between classes.

“I came from Persia. It got intense; my dad sent me off with my guardian.” Reza does not like talking about those final days of Persia, his home, leaving his father behind, promises they made to each other.

\--

* * *

“I’ll come back to you; I promise. Look after Erik, that’s your job now. Can you do that, Reza? Be strong and take care of each other?”

Reza is only four and he does not fully understand what is happening. His father is weeping, holding onto him before he pushes him away.

“Take care of him.”

\--

* * *

That was the last time Reza saw or heard from his father. He is nineteen now and in university.

“Persia. That explains the accent. Knew you weren’t French.” Anias smiles, she steals some food from Reza’s plate.

“Not French.” Reza takes some of her food in return.

“What’s Persia like?” Anias leans forward, giving him her full attention. He shrugs.

“I was four when we left, I only know the side effects,” Reza eyes glaze over for a moment. His father, Darius and Erik always looked so tired.

“Side effects,” Anias repeats, the curious creature.

“Sleepless nights, tried eyes, some screaming.” Reza trails off, he can hear noise in the background and tries to shake it off.

\--

* * *

Reza and Anias walk home together, he stops by his apartment building, it is before her dorm. She whistles and is impressed. The building is known for its ritz and rich residents.

“You live here?” Anias gives him a once over, Reza does not dress like a member of the elite. The colors of his clothing is faded, and his shoes are not new.

“My guardian is affluent, and he owns the building.” Reza looks down, he does not like to talk about money or his advantages. He feels shamed by them. The shah and his mother had money and they were terrible people and did not use their influence for the better. Reza’s guardian is the same.

“Right. Did he buy you from your dad?” Anias jokes.

“Sometimes I wonder.” Reza says softly to the ground. He rubs the back of his neck. He has not heard from Darius or his father for some time and he’s not sure if they are even alive.

“Oh, I didn’t mean. I’m sorry.” Anias cheeks flush and she curses her tongue.

“I’d invite you in, but my guardian might be over and he’s the jealous type, he may kill you,” Reza speaks with a smile, but he is serious.

“Must avoid that,” Anias returns a playfulness.

“Yes,”

\--

* * *

Reza turns on the light to his room. His clever guardian has all sorts of innovations installed all over this apartment. Reza jumps onto his bed and reaches to his side table and picks up an old toy, an automation he received when he was young.

It still plays the music and moves like it was built yesterday. The first thing Erik ever gave him. Reza did not understand his father’s anger and annoyance with Erik’s gifts, he thinks he is starting to understand now.

\--

* * *

“You broke it,” Reza is hiding around the corner, he can see his father and Erik talking.

“I may have reacted irrationally,” Father says.

“What’s wrong with toys? He’s a boy, they should have toys,” Erik and his father did not speak to each other at the start, they always set up a wall to divide them.

“How old are you? Eighteen? Did you have toys?” Father casts a quick look, he would allow himself to look at Erik twice, no more, Erik shrugs.

“I guess, and does it matter? Reza deserves toys and to smile.”

“He does, thank you for that Erik, thank you,”

\--

* * *

“Why does Erik wear those masks, Papa?” Reza asks as his father gets him settled into bed.

“The same reason you have your mother’s eyes, and the sun is not purple.”

Reza blinks, he does not understand. Father boops his nose.

“It’s just the way things are. Erik wears a mask and life goes on.”

\--

* * *

Reza, nineteen, shakes the memories from his head. He turns over onto his back and plays with the toy.

“You’re getting terrible at cloak and dagger in your old age, Erik.” Reza does not bother to look over to other older man.

“Perhaps, I wanted you to know of my presence,” Erik comes from the shadows and leans against the door frame.

“Just saying, would not hire you for assassination.” Reza tsks and clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“I do not know what you are referring to. I am an architect.” Erik has a casual air about him.

“That’s right, you built that thing for the shah.” Reza smiles, he knows how much Erik **_hates_ **when Reza oversimplifies and makes Erik’s grand work vague.

“Yes, that **_thing_** ,” Erik focuses on a random object to keep his center.

“Is there something you need, guardian o’mine?” Reza lifts his head and gives Erik proper attention. Erik scoffs and half turns away.

“Can I not simply visit my son?” Erik's affect is that of an offended parent, scandalized by their child’s brazen and terrible question.

Erik has long stopped thinking of Reza in terms of simply as his ward or charge, in all the ways that matter, Reza **_is_ **his boy. Reza ha’s loudly and he shakes his head, his smile brighter, wider. Erik narrows his eyes. They glow golden in the dark and their feline quality reminds Reza of an apex predator. Reza shrinks back instinctively.

“Who is that girl?” The profound revulsion at, “girl,” startles Reza. He feels hot sparks strike at his veins. Reza frowns, was Erik spying on them? Does Erik follow Reza? Of course, he does, Reza closes his eyes and scolds his stupidity and naivety.

“Anias is a friend, we go to school together. Her dormitory is not too far from here, we were merely walking home together.” Reza does his best to appease Erik, he sits up and gives Erik full attention.

“A friend,” Erik is unconvinced, he walks in the room and picks up an object from Reza’s dresser.

“Am I not to have friends?” Reza frowns.

Erik puts down what he was holding and walks over to Reza, he lifts the boy’s head with his gloved hand and traces his thumb in a circulation motion against Reza’s chin.

“Friend? Mm. She’s not your friend,” Erik lightly mocks, he tsks and Reza is sure his guardian is further insulting him by pouting behind that damn mask. Reza feels anger rise inside him and he scowls at the masked man.

“Ooh, I’ve made you upset. Oh, my sweet prince. Let us not start off bitter.” Erik uses his fingers to force Reza to smile.

“There we go, don’t you feel better?” Reza grabs at Erik’s hands and tries to push them away, he loses the fight, but Erik relents and folds his hands together and sits on the bed next to Reza.

“That can’t be the reason for your visit.” Reza has the sudden desire to start on his coursework.

“I must leave Paris for a few weeks. I came to tell you and to spend quality together before I have to depart,” Erik runs his fingers through Reza’s hair.

“Is this related to a client or a “client,” Reza found out in the most awkward way that Erik still helps others with “problems,” from time to time if the money is good, and if they offer something to sweeten the pot, so to speak.

“Yes. Did you eat dinner?” Erik’s moves to fixing Reza’s collar.

Reza is the kind to pull the shirt over his head and get out the door. Erik takes the minutes, hours, necessary to perfect the proper aesthetic for the occasion at hand. Reza likes to remind Erik that not everything is a production to dress for.

“Dinner is a meal that still eludes me. I shall know of her one day.” Reza flicks his hands at Erik

“Tonight is that night, my dear.”

* * *

Erik left in the early hours of the morning. Reza half remembers a goodbye, but he was too sleepy to truly receive or be receptive. Erik’s absence is a weight lifted from the young man’s shoulders. Erik will always be the father Reza needed and he loves him, but Erik is darkness, and he is a heavy presence.

“Rhombus or trapezoid.” Anais ambushes Reza and asks him odd questions without context. Reza sputters and looks around in confusion. Anias walks Reza into a corner.

“Rhombus or trapezoid,” she asks again. Reza cannot think clearly. He forgot what words were.

“Rhombus!” He cries out. Anias bows her head, she raises it up with a curious smile and mad sparkle to her eye.

“Or is it quartz?” Her mouth forms an O shape, and she walks backwards Reza shudders and he is sure he is going to marry her one day.

\--

* * *

“Nuts or legumes.” Reza steps out to her and it’s his turn to ask the odd thing and put her on the spot.

“Carrots!” She shouts. Reza curses her quick wit; he had not expected that and should have. She clicks her tongue and waves disappointedly.

"That's all? Oh, not even back up or a banter jar?" Anias frowns playfully. Reza mind races. Be clever, you are clever, be clever. Reza eyes spark and he's got one.

"Façade," he motions his face," or façade," Reza points to a building. Anias chortles, she likes it!

* * *

Time passes and Reza forgets the spaces and burdens and weight. He smiles more than he can ever remember and knows it must be because of her. She is light, she is pure, she is air, he needs her like water and oxygen.

Pink. She is pink and candy scented perfume. When he walks the fairgrounds, that is her, what is feels like being with her. He is at the fair everyday and he is at peace.

“I’m going to marry you one day, aren’t i?” Anias plucks a flower from the ground and twirls it between her fingers. They have picnics in the park. Reza looks over from his book.

“Probably,” he flashes a toothy smile. Anias blows the dandelion at Reza

* * *

Reza and Anias burst through the door and slam it shut, fighting off invisible predators. They pretend they are being chased by bad people and have only have seconds to seek shelter.

“They’re coming, they’re coming,” Anias taps his shoulders as Reza uses the key to unlock the door, they push forward in a mad panic and laugh, and they collapse onto the floor and rest against the door.

“Reza.”

Reza’s eyes open and they are wide, he is a gazelle caught by the lion. Erik is sitting at the table in the kitchen drinking tea. Reza cannot speak, words fail to form. Erik drinks his tea in silence for another minute, his fingers drum against his cup.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce me, you great lummox?" Erik turns his head. Reza still cannot speak. He feels sweat form and drip into his eyes, they burn, he blinks several times.

"No?" Erik clinks his tongue and shakes his head disapprovingly.

"Friend," Reza finally manages," friend Anias." Reza is breathless and cold. He can feel adrenaline assault his system.

Erik stands to his feet and he walks over to Reza then he kneels to be at Reza's level. Anias does not know what to do or how to act. She has never seen Reza like this, and she has no idea who this masked person is that’s causing the duress. Erik reaches out and taps Reza’s nose.

“Really?” Erik tilts his head. Reza whimpers slightly.

“I should go,” Anais speaks for the first and rises to her feet. Reza moves out of the way of the door.

“You mean, you don’t want to stay for the thrilling conversation and vittles?” Erik teases.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Anias makes haste with her exit.

"She seems nice," Erik turns to Reza.

* * *

**Nine years ago,**

“You found a rabbit.” Erik blinks. He is not impressed, and he does not want that thing to remain in their home. Reza hugs it lovingly. Erik’s hands twitch. He can feel the poison of hate and jealousy caress and start to fill his heart.

“It’s my new friend! Mr. Bumbles,” Reza smiles like a fool. He rambles on and on about all the things he is going to do with Mr. Bumbles.

Erik says nothing. He hears the voices scream and snarl. His hands twitch and Reza fades away.

“Erik, do you want to hold him? Erik?” Reza grabs at his guardian’s arm. Reza frowns and keeps trying to attract Erik’s attention.

Erik reacts violently and surprises Reza, who drops the rabbit, and it runs and spins around. Erik strides forward and raises his foot and is prepared to stomp it to death.

“Erik, no!” Reza rushes forward and grabs Erik. Erik grabs Reza’s arm and swings him forward in front of him.

“Do you love _**it** _or me?” Erik hisses through clenched teeth. Reza is taken aback by the question.

“What?” Is all Reza can say, his mind is muzzy. He’s doesn’t know what’s happening.

“Do you love it,” Erik gestures to the rabbit,” or me?”

Reza still does not understand the question, Erik's anger and why he is being asked something so silly. Reza moans in pain as Erik's hold is not friendly.

"You. I love **_you_** , Erik. You know that," Reza frowns. Erik ire fades in an instant. He embraces the confused boy.

"Mm. I love you too, my sweet prince. Hey, why don't I make rabbit stew for dinner?" Reza buries his head into Erik and cuffs his ears.

* * *

**Now**

"She is," Reza whispers. He feels sick, his legs are jelly and is going to lose his ability to remain standing. Reza's legs give out. Erik grabs him before he can fall.

"Thought we were going to stop that," Erik teases he steadies Reza.

"Please don't do anything. She's nice, she doesn't deserve it, please don't hurt her," Reza pleads, Erik ignores that. Erik helps him to a chair at the table.

"Tea!" Erik cries out, he spins around, claps his hands together and goes about to prepare tea for Reza. Reza whimpers. His hands began to shake. He sees violent, shaky, terrible images. Anais dead. Anias bloody and covered in dirt. Erik hums along to a song.

Reza covers his ears with his hands and bites his lips. He knows what will come next. His legs are shaking, he cannot stop. Father. Think of father. When he thinks of father, he can resist longer.

When he got his strength back he would run around their home, the servants left to care for him while his father was away would report his newfound wanderlust and games. Father smiled, he loved that Reza could do those things, he lightly scolded him.

Erik holds onto Reza's shoulder and places a steaming mug of freshly brewed tea in front of him. Reza moans and he doesn't want it.

"Drink the tea," the voice, Reza's eyes flutter, he cannot resist the softness, the honey soaked melody. Reza brings the mug to his lips. Once his sips his last bit of tea, he slides the mug away.

"Here, let's get you to bed," Erik half carries Reza to his bedroom, Erik helps Reza onto bed and tucks him in. Reza's eyelids are heavy, he tries to grab onto Erik, but he cannot move so well.

"Goodnight, my sweet prince." Erik runs his fingers through Reza's hair and kisses the top of his head through his mask. He adjusts the pillow beneath Reza's head and smooths out the top of his covers.

"I love you." Erik turns out the light and closes the door. Reza's last thought before he drifts of to sleep: _Anais forgive me, I love you._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may do more with this. I just finished the first season of Prodigal Son and I thought, hey what if that was Reza, Nadir and Erik . . .  
> so that was the inspiration for this one-shot


	13. Her Sympathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlotta and Christine have a moment

* * *

“And why have we been hiding?”

Christine nearly drops her brush. Carlotta is not one to visit her dressing room and they are not on friendly terms.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.” Christine picks up her brush and runs it through her locks, trying to steady herself and find her center. Carlotta taps her fingers against the doorframe and then enters.

“Why, your voice! Why would you keep something so wonderful hidden?” Carlotta takes the brush from Christine and tends to her hair.

“I did not hide my voice, I joined a company that already had an established lead soprano,” Christine is uneasy and shifts uncomfortably in her chair. Carlotta taps the back of Christine’s hand, she stills.

“And yet you stepped out from the ballet rats,” Carlotta tugs at Christine’s hair.

“You were ill, and we had to perform, the house was full.”

“You took the lead. I’m glad you understand that there is more than simply singing to being the lead of the company.” Carlotta smiles.

“Yes.” Christine tries to sound confidant.

“There are sacrifices.”

Christine feels cold and she shivers, Carlotta smiles and chuckles softly.

“He likes you. I was like you once, young, and beautiful, naïve. I lacked confidence too and our lead soprano was a right terror! Oh, she could be quite cruel. She would hide thumbtacks in my clothing.” Carlotta pauses her story, and her eyes glaze over for a moment.

“He was kind to me, he taught me how to utilize my vocal talents in ways I have never thought of! I had the greatest favor a member of this company can have. He gave me so much and do you know what he asked in return?” Carlotta breaks off and her laughter turns bitter, Christine is pale and shakes her head slightly.

“Oh, it was simple at first, subtle. Do not go out late at night, do not do anything to damage or risk my voice. See? Nothing wrong with that, nothing unusual or too demanding. Then I received gifts from potential suitors, that is typical. I was young, pretty and a performer.”

Carlotta uses the brush to point to flowers on Christine’s vanity.

“Deny my suitors, these men were dirty, they knew nothing of art and wanted to bask in my talent and feed from me. I believed him; he was not wrong about all of them. I had friends, a lot of friends. I liked people. Stay away from them and I did for a time. I stayed in, I declined plans. I was a prisoner is some ways.”

Christine’s leg starts to shake.

“I went out once with someone because I couldn’t take being inside anymore. He did not like that. His reach is far, and he cannot be restrained.” Carlotta frowns.

“I don’t know what happened to my friend. He simply disappeared, that’s the official story, ran off with some woman and was never heard from again.”

Carlotta sighs.

“I knew what I had to do. It was the hardest thing I have ever done and I’m still paying for it. I let him go and walked away. I took up with awful men to spite him, and in time he lost interest and I lost something I once held most precious and dear to me, but I knew I had to do it.”

Carlotta places her hands on Christine’s shoulders.

“The Angel of Music? Is that he tells you? What he calls himself? Our Phantom is cute in his old age, isn’t he?”

Christine looks down.

“Take heart, sweet thing. Make no mistake, he will tear it from you. You have my sympathies. You may be my rival, but I do not wish this. Not him.”


	14. Chapter 14

He tried to intimidate her, the first time they met as adults, she shook her head in sorrow, he growled, trying to be fearsome, it usually works, people piss as they run, she frowns and clicks her tongue.

“I thought you’d be taller,” Meg looks up, she pouts. She is honestly disappointed. The world behind them is on fire, Christine and Raoul are escaping, there is a mob setting off all his traps and some of the pathetic lot are **dying** , Meg Giry is pouting because the Phantom is not tall enough.

“I’m 6’7".” The Phantom snaps, Meg shakes her head.

“That is **_short_** _for_ a ghost. You are **_human_** , aren’t you? Figures.” Meg sighs, she looks down at her feet, she is not afraid, she knows he is a killer, and she is unafraid, but sad that he is only human.

“You’re **thin**. Like, look at me, look at me, I am Ichabod Crane,” Meg mocks as she waves her hands in the air,” eat a sandwich, would you?”

Meg peers passed him and then nods, she has decided, she stands taller, shoulders back and she strides forward, walking to the house on the lake.

“Where are you going?” He follows her angrily, she turns, her head held high.

“Making you that damn sandwich.” She winks.

\--

* * *

Meg makes him that damn sandwich, she sets the plate down and watches him. He does not eat; he stares at her.

“I kill people,” He grins cruelly behind the mask. He wants to make her squirm, to make her feel uncomfortable.

Meg claps sarcastically.

“Congratulations.”

The Phantom is surprised, he pokes at the food in front of him, no intention of eating, the girl is more fascinating. He leans forward. He is truly intrigued.

“You are truly unafraid of me.” He is impressed. Meg steps up the bravado.

“Why would I be afraid of someone short and thin as you? You are defeated by a high five by the way,” Meg raises her hand to the level of her eye,” high five!” she leans forward and hits his palm.

“Erik.” He says amused, he should feel insulted, but he does not.

“Clive Barker.” Meg says with an air of confusion. She blinks several times, she shrugs.

The Phantom waves his hand,” my **name** is Erik.”

“I bet you spell it with a, “k” Meg scoffs, pretending to be disgusted.

He nods.

She snaps her fingers.

“I honestly thought you’d be a Michael, or a Peter.”

“Nope, just Erik, with a K.”


	15. My Cherry

Christine presents her offering, a bowl of cherries, to the mirror. She bows, she is humble, and she lowers herself to the floor where she gently places the bowl before she moves backwards.

“And what do I owe the honor of this, my dear?” Her Angel is amused, pleased, she hopes. He sounds like he is one of his more agreeable moods, Christine smiles, her heart fills with happiness and pride. Her Angel of Music is pleased.

“I thought you would enjoy them, that is all, Angel.” Christine keeps her body submissive, in a show of reverence, respect. She speaks softly, with adulation.

“A bowl of cherries, surely there is a reference, I am afraid you have me at disadvantage.” Christine finds her body moving closer to the mirror, on its own, something she cannot control.

“Reference?” Christine’s confusion is honest.

“Do cherries mean something to you?”

“You always call me that, “my cherry,” so I thought you held a strong penchant, and they were on sale at the market, so I purchased them for you, I thought of you when I saw them.” Christine feels like she may have done something wrong, perhaps Angels should not be presented with gifts, as they are above such things.

Panic sets in and she cries out in stupid anguish, Christine is always making foolish mistakes and she does not mean to offend.

“My cherry?”

Christine lowers her head to the floor and cries louder, she is always making silly and stupid errors!

“Oh, forgive me, Angel, I did not mean to offend, I would lose my head, if it were not attached!” Christine body shakes from her grief.

“Mon chéri?”

“Yes,” her voice breaks from her anguish and wails.

“Mon chéri, means my darling,” the Angel chuckles softly, it is a soothing sound. Christine looks up at the mirror, her cheeks flush.

“Not my cherry?”

"You're still practicing your French fluency," the Angel accurately concludes amused, Christine nods, her face bright red,

"Yup."

**Author's Note:**

> will welcome suggestions for future chapters, because so much of this book/musical i can't even with what happens, and I know I cannot be the only one, shouting: ARE YOU KIDDING ME


End file.
